


if it's anything, it's a girl

by Skyuni123



Series: One-Off Movie Ficlets [4]
Category: Solo: A Star Wars Story (2018), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Author's Favorite, Bisexuality, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, First Kiss, Homophobia, Humor, M/M, Outer Space, Period-Typical Homophobia, lucasfilm has a shitty track record with them gays, mild blood kink, there's one line in solo that really grated on me can u tell, yeah it's one line shush
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-29
Updated: 2018-05-31
Packaged: 2019-05-15 07:39:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14786261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skyuni123/pseuds/Skyuni123
Summary: han solo likes more than just women.everyone else in the universe has a lot of trouble figuring that out.-inspired by that weird line in the snow duringsolo.I liked the film, don't get me wrong, it just felt... weird.





	1. Chapter 1

"Look at him. If it's anything, it's a girl." And Val doesn't mean anything by it, he knows that, but still, it  _ stings.  _ It bites harder than the damn cold, and out here in the snow, it's pretty damn cold.

 

Even so far from Corellia, far from the influence of the Empire, far from the notions of 'stronger families make better pilots' and everything that brings, it would always be a human than would  _ assume.  _

And yes, there is a woman. There's always been a woman. Qi'ra's been his everything for as long as he can remember, but that still doesn't make it right. 

Even if he didn't miss Qi'ra every day, it still wouldn't make it right. 

 

But it's not the time. He smiles wistfully, lets the longing and sadness drip into his voice, and tells them all about her.

The rest can wait. 

 

-

 

He's running a job in the depths of Coruscant a year or so later, trying hard to keep out from under the thumb of the Hutts. Everything went to shit on Tatooine, as everything's seemed to since Qi'ra... left... and he's trying to make back the Hutts' money by transporting a whole load of forbidden narcotics from the Core planets to the Outer Rim. 

It's not an especially exciting job, but it's good money and he really doesn't have  any other choice.

He doesn't have many more chances with the Hutts before they get him, for good. 

 

However, the job goes smoothly, the drugs get placed on the freighter they need to be on, and he and Chewy are home free. They don't even get stopped by the Empire during the handover. 

Job well done, and about time too.

 

Chewbacca wants to visit some old friends in the city, and Han wants a night off, so he bids his friend farewell and tells him, very solemnly, "Don't get into trouble."

Chewy snorts, thumps him over the back of the head and growls something along the lines of, " _ I never get into trouble. I always save you, remember?"  _

"Thanks buddy." Han waves him off, because that is desperately Not True. "Go. Go and see your  _ other friends _ . I'll be... back at the ship by daybreak. You do the same."

" _ Idiot."  _

 

Chewy, despite his large size and general hairiness, disappears into the crowd within moments. 

 

Well. What to do? Han can't venture up into the overcity, he'd get taken out by some smuggler or assassin or Stormtrooper within minutes, but there's gotta be something to do down here...

 

The grotty bar on the corner seems like a good idea. 

It doesn't seem quite like such a good idea once he's several fingers into a bottle of Corellian whiskey and the barman(?) creature(?) is eyeing him with something akin to disgust.

One wonders how a being without visible eyes can 'eye' someone, but the look Han's getting is far from complimentary. 

 

"About time you left, pal." The creature grunts. It's a pretty mean feat considering its lack of a mouth, though that might just be because Han's had a  _ lot  _ of whiskey. 

 

"Wha- ...why?" He's pretty sure his tongue wasn't quite as heavy in his mouth when he came in, but his memory doesn't actually seem to extend that far back...

 

"You've been crying about your missing girlfriend for two hours, and frankly, it's stopping customers."

 

"Qi'ra's... not my girlfriend." They'd been so much more than that. 

 

"Girlfriend, wife, whatever, I don't care about human pair bonding." The barcreature complains. "Go on. Get out." He gives Han a shove, and spills the whiskey everywhere.

 

It's a bit rude, actually, but Han's having a lot of trouble actually keeping upright, so he can't seem to make an effort to draw his weapon.

 

"Wha...ever..." Han grabs the bottle of whiskey, slams a few credits down on the bar, and stumbles out into the street.

 

Is alcoholism really the answer?

No. No it's not, but it's certainly plastering over the hole in his heart. 

 

He stumbles off down the street. This isn't the worst place in the undercity, but it's nowhere near the best. Everything seems a bit too bright, neon lights splitting his head open from the inside. He passes another couple of bars, an eatery, a dodgy-looking med clinic, and a brothel. 

 

He stops at the brothel.

It's not actually because he wants to go to it, just that his legs don't want to make him walk any further.

 

The guard outside, who’s as hairy as Chewy but tinted light blue, yells in Basic, “You! You want a woman? Got tons of humans, ready and begging for your co-”

 

_ Yeah.  _ No. Bad idea. The annoyance that spikes through him is probably only partially due to the alcohol. “Wha- What if I don’t want a woman?”

 

“We have some Arconian females, if you’re interested? The eyes take a little getting used to, but they’re ready for-”

 

“Yeah, yeah I get that you’re employing women, I get that.” For fuck’s sake, it’d be easier to find dry land in a Dagobahrian bog. One would think that the proprietor of a whorehouse would know what he’s trying to get at, but apparently not. “What if I wanted someone who’s not a woman?”

 

The guard cocks an eyebrow at him. For someone who’s entirely made out of hair, it’s a pretty mean feat. “I thought you humans had that weird obsession with gender thing.”

 

Han’s hand inches towards his blaster, almost without prompting. But no, he’s not going to shoot anyone. He’s going to be good today. Besides, he’s so drunk that his aim’s going to be fucked if he even tries. It’s probably left him a little vulnerable, if he’s honest, but no-one’s ever said that Han Solo makes good decisions all of the time. “Pal, if anything, you’re the only one here with a weird obsession with gender.” 

 

“Don’t all humans pair-bond with people of the opposite gender?” The guard muses, slovenly. “And you spend forever with them? Didn’t I hear that Darth Vader  _ himself  _ was the product of a human pair-bond gone wrong?”

 

Han really didn’t want to shoot anyone today.

 

Fortunately, he doesn’t have the death of some random asshole on his conscience, because as soon as he draws his blaster, the guard waves at a police drone circling overhead and that same police drone knocks him unconscious with a spray of stun-fire.

 

Han wakes up an hour or so later, royally pissed off, to find himself stuck in a cell with a very displeased Wookie looking down at him.

“ _ ‘Don’t get into trouble’, huh?”  _ Chewy grunts, but pays his bail. 

 

-

 

Sometime later, they’re in the middle of a firefight. Han and Chewy have stolen something, the Empire wants it back, yadda yadda yadda, and there’s a ton of TIE fighters after them.

Just another day’s work, really. 

 

Han’s piloting the Falcon madly in an attempt to get the fighters off their tail, and Chewy’s trying to pick them off with the cannon. Everything’s going very Fine until Han gets a call.

It’s a deep space communication. Untraceable. Usually, times like this would be the one point where he wouldn’t open a call, but something in him tells him to open this one. “Yeah?”

 

“Han, baby, got a minute?” It’s Lando Calrissian.  _ Son of a bitch.  _ What’s he calling for? Last time they met up they’d had an argument and nearly destroyed an entire bar. That’s not saying he doesn’t  _ like  _ the guy, but even so.

 

“Talk to me.” He nearly overclocks the controls spinning the Falcon in a full loop to avoid a blast from one of the fighters.

 

“Well…” 

 

Han knows that tone. It’s a cute attempt at being persuasive. He sighs, drags the controls to the right and says, “What do you want from me, Lando? I’m not giving you the ship.” 

 

“Can’t I just-”

 

“I won her fair and square. If you want another ship, go talk to one of your other friends.” The ‘other’ is an accident. It kinda slips out.

 

Of course, Lando picks up on it. “‘Other’ friends, huh? Baby, do this one thing for me and I’ll pay you better than you’ve ever been.”

 

Lando? Offering a reward? Wow. Something’s serious. Han flips the Falcon upside down for a couple of seconds, and then darts around an asteroid. “I’m not saying yes, but what would you want me to do?”

  
  


In hindsight, he probably should have just hung up. 


	2. Chapter 2

There’s this wealthy relative of Lando’s. He’s dying of some rare kind of space cancer, and Lando’s been promised an entry into his will if he can prove that he’s going straight, got himself set up and is ready to face the world in a way that doesn’t involve crime.

Lando wants the money and doesn’t especially care about the relative. He wants to borrow the Falcon - to prove that he’s got a good ship (because in space, ships are currency) - and Han - (because apparently a former child slave from Corellia pretending to be in a relationship with you is exactly the way to show that you’re ‘going straight’).

 

It is an incredibly flimsy premise, and Han’s pretty sure that some of it is lies. 

But he likes money, doesn’t have any problems with men, and the whole thing seems like a bit of fun, actually. Beats being shot at and hiding in sewers.

 

Once they’ve shaken off the TIE fighters and delivered the payload, they head for Cloud City. Lando apparently won the whole damn thing in a game of cards, which is ridiculous, considering it’s  _ huge.  _ It’s a whole  _ city.  _ Whatever he’d bet on it must have been damn important.

Even Han’s not dumb enough to make that kind of bet.

 

Lando greets them on the landing pad, dressed in a lurid purple cape, which is probably fair enough. 

What isn’t fair enough is the first words out of his mouth, “are those scorch marks? On  _ my  _ ship?”

 

“They’re scorch marks, on  _ my  _ ship.” Han retorts. “You lost her fair and square.”

 

“I know,” And then Lando grins, brilliantly, and pulls him into a hug.

 

And hey, it isn’t bad. It isn’t bad at all. The warmth actually triggers the first thing he's felt out of his libido in months. He just has to go and ruin it with his big mouth. “What’s with all the hugging, pal? Last time I saw ya we were trying to kill each other.”

 

Lando shrugs and runs a hand through the hair at the base of Han’s neck gently. “Think of it as reaching new horizons.”

 

Chewy groans and thumps Han on the back. It’s unfair, considering that he’s the only one not actually lying in this situation. 

“No, you’re just trying to schmooze.” The hand in his hair is nice. He's kinda into it. Is this what this is now? Hey, he's not exactly complaining.

 

“Got it in one.” Lando pats Han on the back once then lets go. “Shall we go? My great great great uncle is waiting.”

 

“Yeah, but I’m driving.”

  
  


Chewbacca pilots the ship because Han and Lando are too busy arguing to sort it out. The arguing isn’t mean spirited - not at all - but it’s too complex to allow for any sort of compromise.

 

“Your great great great uncle wants you to be good, yeah?” Han asks, although he’s not actually that interested. Still, it pays to think about these things. Get all the info. It’ll help later, it always does.

 

“Baby, I’m always good.” Lando grins, roughly. “He just wants me to be a better kind of good. Good on paper. You know.”

 

Han doesn’t, really. He’s never really been ‘good on paper’. “Sure.”

 

“For the purposes of this exercise, I’m a career politician, who just had Cloud City fall into my lap. You are…”

 

Chewy barks a laugh and says something that translates roughly to, “ _ a house husband?” _

 

“Ass.” Han says, but there’s no malice in it. “No. Not that.”

 

“Underling?” Lando muses. “Intern? Thrall? You work for me. We fell madly in love over a debate table.”

 

Oh, so  _ this  _ is where he’s going. This whole trip is just a way to completely and utterly humiliate him. 

 

(Honestly, he’s surprised he didn’t think up the plan himself. It’s actually fairly genius.)

 

“Sure. Fine. That’s good.” 

 

“Great! Thanks, sweetheart. I really appreciate this.” Lando smirks at him, and manages to make at least half of that sentence sound remotely sincere.

 

“Don’t call me sweetheart.” 


	3. Chapter 3

Han spends a lot of the party - (because dying rich dudes apparently have  _ parties  _ to send themselves off, or something) - drinking. It’s not exactly the best idea, considering the company they’re keeping, but Han Solo’s never great at good ideas. Usually he just stumbles into situations and stumbles about until he finds a good outcome.

He’ll never admit that to anyone though. 

Lando is charming, effusive and far too nice, without even a hint of wickedness underneath. It’s blatantly false, but Han knows the guy far better than his extended family probably does, so it’s likely working a charm on all of them. 

He spins lies like honey on the tip of his tongue, introducing Han as his suitor, his love, anything else that fits the narrative. Of course, there are some that balk at the partnership of two human men, but that’s always been a thing in Han’s life, so he doesn’t comment on it. He’s basically there as a pretty placeholder under Lando’s arm and he wouldn’t trade it for the world.

 

It might just be the Corellian whiskey talking, but he’s actually kinda into it. 

 

Everything’s been a little… slow… since Qi’ra, but that’s not saying he hasn’t considered it. Lando’s an attractive man who flirts with everything in the universe. There is no chance that he’d ever say no.

But he doesn’t go for it. Why ruin this… partnership, or whatever it is, with added feelings? He’s happy to have Lando as a confidant, and it doesn’t need to cross into anything more.

 

It’s late evening when the party begins to die down. The planet they’re on has two suns, and one of them doesn’t set until very late in the evening, so they’re ushered off to bed by a glowing red light over the horizon.

It’s almost romantic, if that’s something you go for. 

 

Han lets himself be pulled towards bed, one of his arms flung over Lando’s shoulders. He’s too content to fully move, too caught up in the fug of warmth and whiskey to make an effort. It’s good not to be running for once.

 

“You had a good night, Solo?” Lando asks, as the turbolift whizzes upwards.

“Can’t complain.” Saying anything more seems arbitrary. 

“Good.” Lando seems pleased by his words. “Not so bad, eh? Pretending to be my partner.”

“Well, I received far less open harassment than I usually do in these situations, so it was a win-win in my eyes.”

“You get harassed? For being with men?”   


“Yeah, of course.” Han fixes him with an incredulous look, “You know, despite all of the alien worlds out there, and all the possibilities within, most of ‘em still seem stuck on the concept of human gender. It’s ridiculous.”

“I’ve not run into anything like that, personally.”

“You own a literal  _ planet,  _ Lando, do you really think that people would care where your proclivities lie?”

“Cloud City isn’t a  _ planet… _ ” Lando trails off at Han’s glare. “Yeah, yeah, I get it. I’m in a different position to you.”

 

“You sure are.” Han doesn’t even let the thought of ‘positions’ drift into his mind. Nope. Not at all. He just lets Lando pull him through a door marked with strange alien symbols. He presumes they’re numbers, though really, they could be anything.

 

The room inside is spacious, and there’s only one bed. Han, who at this point is too drunk and utterly delightfully fuzzy inside, flops onto it with his boots on.

It’s damn comfortable too. For someone who regularly spends nights sleeping in the pilot’s chair in the Falcon, it’s a very welcome change.

 

“You’re really not uncomfortable about this, are you?” Lando asks, from somewhere nearby. It sounds like he’s taking off his boots.

Han’s got his eyes shut, because really, he’s too drunk for this shit and the lights overhead are far too bright. “I’ve spent multiple nights sleeping next to a Wookie. You’re less hairy.” 

“Why, thanks.”

“You seen Chewie lately?” There’s some impulse, something important in the back of his mind that says that he probably shouldn’t be separated from his friend on an alien planet. However, he ignores it, too content to soak in the warmth of the bed coverings and the fuzz in his head.

“I think he took off with two of my aunts. Their ship needed fixing and he wanted to give us some privacy.” The bed shakes, and it’s pretty clear that Lando’s settled down next to him.

 

Han cracks open an eye, eyes Lando and asks, “You hitting on me, Calrissian?”

 

“You’ve been eying me up for three years and you’re asking me if  _ I’m  _ hitting on  _ you?” _

 

“Point taken.” He stretches, lazily, and kicks his boots off, wondering if he’s always been so transparent. He’s not the greatest liar, but  _ damn,  _ was he always that obvious? “What are we going to do about this then?”

 

“Do you want to have sex with me, Han?” Lando over-pronounces his name, draws it out in a way that’s very,  _ very  _ annoying, but there’s a hint of a plea in there, all the same. Neither of them really want to spend tonight alone. 

 

There are many instances in Han Solo’s life where he should say ‘no’ to things. Running drugs for the Hutts is one of them. Being propositioned by a charming crime lord with a shady history is another.

But he doesn’t. 

 

“Yeah, why the fuck not?” 

It’s not like it’s an  _ obligation. _

 

-

 

At first it’s awkward, like it always is with a new partner. Life’s not actually like those stupid romantic holovids from Coruscant that Chewie swears he doesn’t like watching. Their teeth click together, the angle’s a little too wrong, and Lando’s dumb beard scrapes up the edge of his cheeks almost immediately.

But then the kiss shifts into something deeper, hotter, more violent - and  _ shit,  _ Lando must be still pissed about losing the Falcon because he kisses like he’s trying to eat Han alive. 

Han tastes blood in his mouth and he doesn’t know whose it is, and actually, that’s pretty fucking hot. Bloodborne diseases be damned, he’s really into this.

 

Lando pulls back and gasps, mouth wet, “That’s quite a mouth you’ve got on you, Solo,” and for once it doesn’t even sound like he’s mocking him. “Why were we not doing this three years ago?”

“Because you were losing to me at sabacc instead.” Han retorts, blood on  _ fire,  _ and pulls Lando back down before he even gets a chance to reply.

Yeah, he’s got a really good feeling about this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and we end! thank you all for watching, friends. :)

**Author's Note:**

> hit me up on the [ tumblr ](http://villainousfilmmaker.tumblr.com)


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